“The illness of my niece, Mrs. Girdlestone—­which appeared to be so slight as to alarm none of us, doctors included—­has ended fatally.  I received this morning the shocking news of her death.  Her husband is said to be quite frantic with grief.  Mr. George has already gone to his brother-in-law’s, to superintend the last melancholy duties and I must follow him before the funeral takes place.  We propose to take Mr. Girdlestone away afterward, and to try the effect on him of change of place and new scenes.  Under these sad circumstances, I may be absent from St. Crux a month or six weeks at least; the house will be shut up, and the new servant will not be wanted until my return.

“You will therefore tell the girl, on receiving this letter, that a death in the family has caused a temporary change in our arrangements.  If she is willing to wait, you may safely engage her to come here in six weeks’ time; I shall be back then, if Mr. George is not.  If she refuses, pay her what compensation is right, and so have done with her.  Yours,

“ARTHUR BARTRAM.”

IV.

From Mrs. Drake to Admiral Bartram.

“January 11th.

“HONORED SIR—­I hope to get my errands done, and to return to St. Crux to-morrow, but write to save you anxiety, in case of delay.

“The young woman whom I have engaged (Louisa by name) is willing to wait your time; and her present mistress, taking an interest in her welfare, will provide for her during the interval.  She understands that she is to enter on her new service in six weeks from the present date—­namely, on the twenty-fifth of February next.

“Begging you will accept my respectful sympathy under the sad bereavement which has befallen the family,

“I remain, honored sir, your humble servant,

“SOPHIA DRAKE.”

THE SEVENTH SCENE.

ST. CRUX-IN-THE-MARSH.

CHAPTER I.

“THIS is where you are to sleep.  Put yourself tidy, and then come down again to my room.  The admiral has returned, and you will have to begin by waiting on him at dinner to-day.”

With those words, Mrs. Drake, the housekeeper, closed the door; and the new parlor-maid was left alone in her bed-chamber at St. Crux.

That day was the eventful twenty-fifth of February.  In barely four months from the time when Mrs. Lecount had placed her master’s private Instructions in his Executor’s hands, the one combination of circumstances against which it had been her first and foremost object to provide was exactly the combination which had now taken place.  Mr. Noel Vanstone’s widow and Admiral Bartram’s Secret Trust were together in the same house.